See Me Use You
by Ginocide
Summary: During her sixth year at Hogwarts, Ginny wrestles with her recent breakup with Harry and whether she should stay true to him.
1. Chapter 1

Ginny ran down the stairs as fast as she could without losing her footing. If she were to slip and fall on her arse now she would lose her lead. As it was, her lead was slim, a shite-load of other things could also go very, very wrong, and she was trying hard not to think of them. She jumped over the last three stairs and rounded a corner, sending up a quick prayer to whoever was listening that there would be no one hiding next to the wall there. And, nope, she was good. Not like she would be able to react quickly enough even if she did run into someone. Her mind was going a million miles a minute and none of it was useful, only anxious guesses as to what the worst possible thing that could possibly happen next would be. No, she should be preparing to send a Stunning Spell, or throw up a Shield. Oh shite. What was the incantation for a Shield? She had practiced Shields until she could do them nonverbally but you still had to mentally invoke the incantation and for some reason it had slipped her mind—

A screech escaped her as she lost her footing. She had started down another staircase without looking, too busy trying to remember—_Protego_. Of course. She tumbled head over heels to the landing at the bottom. Everything hurt, and she mentally screamed at herself to _get up, get up, get the fuck up_ but she couldn't seem to get her body to move.

_Deep breath. Take a deep breath. You're good. Get up._ She rolled onto her hands and knees, bringing her right knee to her chest and getting a foot on the ground to push herself up with. She pushed off, sucking in another breath, knowing she was unbalanced, knowing she had to keep going.

Pressure around her shoulders inexplicably pulled her back, and her arse hit the ground hard. She shook her head and tried to crawl to her feet again, scampering pathetically. A low laugh sounded from behind her, but she barely heard it over the rushing sound in her ears. This couldn't be happening; he couldn't have caught up with her.

Another failed attempt to stand had her falling to her knees, red hair falling in her face and clouding her vision. She gripped her wand tightly, trying to think of a good spell but all her mind would give her was _Protego_ and that would do her no good here. Think. THINK.

She twisted around, still on her hands and knees, hoping to catch him by surprise, yelling, "_Stupefy_!" She quickly followed it with "_Protego_!" just in case, because she hadn't had time to assess the situation yet. As the blue light from her Shield faded, his face and the god-awful smirk planted so firmly on it became clear. He had easily dodged her Stunner. His grey eyes sparkled with mirth, and then she noticed he was still laughing deep in his throat. Her eyes followed the line of his body, from his white-blond head down his slender torso, down his tailored trousers leg to the polished shoe pinning the hem of her robes to the ground. She glared at it, then up at him.

"Let me go," she said, trying to put all the venom she felt in her voice. To her own ears, it sounded childish and scared. Desperately, she pulled at the cloth in an attempt to slide it out from under his foot.

His smirk grew wider, turning into a full-on smile. White teeth shone in the dimness of the corridor. Her lungs filled with ice.

"Weasley," he said, his voice dripping over her name like honey. "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley. You give me no incentive."

She swallowed, but it felt like there was a lump the size of a snitch in her throat. Her lips drew into a thin line, and she squared her shoulders.

"You're not going to say please?" he said. His mouth had taken on a condescending frown, the kind given to a child who won't share his toys.

She lifted her chin and stared up at him with what she hoped was defiance in her eyes. "You're not going to fuck off?" she asked him.

His mouth twisted but before he could react a high voice drifted down the corridor. "Draco, darling, wherever did you go?"

Malfoy responded without breaking eye contact with Ginny, "I'm over here, Aunt Bella, if you really must know." He raised an eyebrow at the way she was still crouched on the floor, pinned by his foot. A second later, he deliberately stepped off of her robes.

She didn't hesitate, launching herself to her feet and taking off down the hallway. She dove into the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch and ran as fast as she could. From a distance, she heard Malfoy exchanging words with his aunt, but she couldn't discern any words.

Molly Weasley wasn't going to allow Ginny to go back to Hogwarts but with Arthur's known involvement in the Order she didn't have much choice. As terrible as Hogwarts was probably going to be under Snape's rule, the farther she was from her father, the safer she would be. And for some reason, despite the betrayal, Molly couldn't shake the feeling that Snape would protect her only daughter. Or at least wouldn't go out of his way to endanger her. Ginny had never been Snape's favorite but he didn't despise her like he did Harry or Ron. If anything, he probably thought her unworthy of his time or torment.

Ginny knew all of this. It was evident on her mother's face as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. Molly's eyes were tearing up as she desperately tried to tell herself that this would not be the last time she saw her daughter. Ginny had reassured her mother that she would be fine, that she was a pureblood, and insignificant. She'd be able to keep her temper and head down. She had let her mother hug her too tightly, had acted normally, painted a smile on her face. But as her mother faded from sight, Ginny let her shoulders slump, exhaustion washing over her.

She was desperate for an empty compartment. She hadn't been alone with her own thoughts all summer—her mother and father barely let her out of their sight, trying to make the most of whatever time they had left with her, and simultaneously trying to make sure she was coping with Harry's absence. They didn't fully know or believe that he had broken up with her, even if it was under some "greater good" excuse. Molly must have suspected and called horseshite on the whole affair because she had kept saying things like, "when Harry gets back" and "I know you must miss him" and reassurances that Harry missed Ginny as well. But Ginny wasn't so sure anymore. There would be no way for Harry to contact her, of course, but she couldn't help thinking that she just wasn't important enough for Harry to think about, what with You-Know-Who and all, and maybe she had just been a girlfriend of convenience, and nice snog, but unworthy of dedication, attention, and a fully devoted relationship.

Or maybe she was expecting too much out of him, or over-thinking it, or acting like a child.

She suddenly realized that she had wandered very far down the train. Thinking a nearby compartment empty, she entered without knocking.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

Her head snapped to her right, to the corner she hadn't been able to check. Rage welled inside her chest. "Malfoy," she spat, and backhanded him before he could react.

The next thing she knew he had risen from his seat, pushing her into the one opposite with his arm forming a bar across her chest, elbow and wrist each pinning a shoulder. His wand dug painfully into her neck.

"What the hell is your problem?" he hissed. "It's like you're asking for something bad to happen." She glared up into his eyes, remembering the last time she had. They had been stormy grey and glittering with malice and amusement. Revulsion twisted her stomach.

"Like you don't know," she responded.

"What, that I may or may not have saved your life?" He raised an eyebrow.

Her jaw dropped in outrage. "I think you mean spare my life. The only reason that I—or anyone else—was in mortal danger that night was because of you, you filthy murderer!"

Malfoy scoffed and pressed down harder on her. She slid down in the seat a little more, putting her back in an uncomfortable position. "In case you didn't get the owl, I didn't kill anyone. That was Snape."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have happened if not for you. Blood is still on your hands even if you were too weak to do it yourself."

At that, Malfoy grabbed her arm and flung her to the floor of the compartment. Pain exploded behind her eyes as the breath rushed out of her. She realized belatedly that he had kicked her in the stomach, winding her. "You would do well to not talk about matters you know nothing about, dear."

Ginny dragged in a painful breath and attempted to rise to her feet. He waited until she was almost up before pushing her down again. She coughed, landing painfully in a crouch. She drew her wand, only to have him kick it out of her hand.

Malfoy smiled. "It seems like every time we meet you wind up on your knees in front of me," he drawled.

She loosed a barrage of insults that would have made her mother furious, questioning everything from his sexuality to his heritage to his mother's occupation. When she was finished, he laughed long and hard, a genuine laugh, one that she suspected others didn't often hear. He put his face in the hand that was holding his wand—so amused, perhaps, that he forgot he was threatening her. Taking advantage of the situation, she attempted to reach for her wand, which had rolled under one of the seats.

"I wouldn't do that," he warned, still laughing softly. His wand was pointed at her again. "Merlin, but you've got a mouth on you. Where did you learn to speak like that? And for your information, I'm definitely not gay." He said the last bit while holding eye contact with her.

Rage flamed in Ginny's chest. "You're disgusting."

Malfoy laughed, this one loud and for show. "I thought we already established that, dear. Now get out of my compartment. I'm done with you."

Ginny made to collect her wand, but he summoned it before she could reach it. Twirling it between his fingers, he shook his head and made a _tsk_ noise. "I don't think you've earned the right to have this. You can get it from me when you're feeling more cooperative."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy cut her off. "Oh, and twenty points from Gryffindor. For slapping me. Completely uncalled for, that. I am Head Boy, you know."

"Fuck you," she muttered, pushing past him. In the small space, she couldn't help but notice how he smelled like sandalwood. He took five more points for profanity.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Ginny had a relatively easy time clearing a compartment for herself. Farther down the train from Malfoy's three first years sat. A few choice words and a harsh tone had them scattering to find other firsties to sit with. She briefly wondered why not all of the compartments were filled to capacity as they normally were before the answer hit her. Because, of course, not all of the students had deigned or been allowed to return, and many first years were putting off their education. Receiving a Hogwarts letter this year must have carried with it mixed emotions.

Ginny changed into her robes long before the train neared the school. Muggle clothes mystified her, had never looked good on her, and she was never sure what to do with all the different styles of trousers. This year she had worn a hideous pair made of denim that flared comically out at the ankles. Her mother had found them—and most of the other Muggle clothes that the Weasley family owned—at yard sales and donation centered. Ginny couldn't help but feel that she would have stuck out _less _at King's Cross had she been wearing her robes. At least, shabby as they were, she was fashionable enough outside of her uniform. She had these forest green robes that she wore to almost every Hogsmeade trip, one of the few nice things she owned. Currently they sat crumpled in the bottom of her trunk, probably not to be worn any time soon. Hogsmeade visits were likely suspended until further notice, and the robes were too nice to be worn on the weekends where she wasn't likely to leave her room.

Sitting underneath the green robes in her trunk, equally crumpled, were most Harry's letters to her. The important ones, anyway. The ones where he told her that he loved her, or made plans with her, or asked her to tell him everything about herself. That was something that always made Ginny feel good, that Harry had _really_ paid attention to her, _really_ looked at her, _really _listened to her. That he would pull her close to him when they were just walking in the hall, or grab her hand as she was leaving to give it one last squeeze. That one time that he had brought her sugar quills and pumpkin juice up to the common room because he found out she was on her period. The way he kissed her as if he was scared he would break her, pushing his finger through her hair and pulling her close, lips a little chapped and breath soft.

The way she had kissed him on his birthday, because she knew he was leaving.

Were they together still? Were they a couple, an item, whatever? Did it matter?

The line of carriages to take the students to the school seemed to be about half the number it normally was. The Great Hall seemed to be about half as full as it normally was, with a third of the noise, and about a fifth of the laughter. The Sorting Ceremony was depressingly short as well, since there were so few people to sort this year. Snape sat in Dumbledore's high-backed chair, looking very small where his predecessor had looked regal. To his right were the Carrow siblings. To his left was McGonagall. She observed the small crowd in the Great Hall with a palpable sadness, but with a sense of duty in the set of her chin. Her maternal instinct must have kicked in, the way she looked at all the students with a fierce protectiveness in her eyes.

Ginny sat next to Neville, who carried on a one-sided conversation with her, staying close to innocuous subjects and away from the elephant—or elephants—in the room. She spent the feast with her eyes on her plate, pushing her food around, wondering what Harry was doing at that moment.

And then she tuned into what Neville was saying. "—think they'll let us use our wands at all, like that Umbridge twat. '_Wands away, please.' _Bloody shameful if we can't use magic. D'ya think—ah, never mind, not here. Tell you later. My Gran thinks I'm pretty shite at magic, and I'll not be getting any better if I spend a year reading textbooks instead of practicing—"

"Fucking shite," Ginny declared suddenly. Neville jerked, as if he had forgotten he was talking to her, or that she was capable or talking back. She whipped around to stare at the Slytherin table, red hair hitting Neville in the face and eliciting a noise of distaste. "Malfoy has my wand."

She scanned the length of the Slytherin table, searching for the Head Boy. Neville sputtered behind her, wondering aloud how Malfoy had gotten ahold of her wand. Ginny found him. As if he felt her glaring at him, he turned to lock eyes with her. A slow grin spread across his face. As she watched, he reached into his sleeve and drew out—her wand. He twirled it in his fingers, taunting her, drawing stares from some of the other Slytherins. Ginny made a rude gesture that under normal circumstances would probably have McGonagall taking house points. She spun back around to glare at her plate.

"Why does Malfoy have your wand, Ginny?" Neville asked.

"I kind of provoked him."

"Oh. Well, that seems fairly usual. When are you going to get it back?"

Ginny sighed. "I need it back before tomorrow. I have to have it for class. Gotta assume we're still going to learn some things."

"Good luck with that. He'll want any excuse to take points." Neville's genuine tone had Ginny glancing over at him, for the first time since the meal had started. He'd grown since last year, shoulders widening and face hardening a little. But she supposed everyone must look like that, after what happened before the summer. After Dumbledore's death. After—

"_Weasley, Weasley, Weasley. You give me no incentive." _

She jerked as the memory went through her head. Bile rose in her throat, hot and acidic. Because of Malfoy, the school was half-empty. Because of Malfoy, Dumbledore was dead. Because of Malfoy, Bill's face was all scarred. Because of Malfoy, Harry had left her.

She stood suddenly, startling Neville who asked where she was going. Ignoring him, she marched from the hall, determined to get up to Gryffindor tower and into her bed before she punched something or someone.

And she made it all the way there before she realized that she didn't know the password yet. The Fat Lady stared and asked why she had left the feast early. Ginny just looked down at her feet and asked to be let in.

"You recognize me, don't you? I know you do."

"I'm sorry, dearie, but I can't do that. Part of the rules. You could be Polyjuiced for all I know," the Fat Lady pointed out.

Ginny laughed bitterly. "The danger is already in the school, miss. They run the place now." She turned on her heel and stalked away, hoping to run into another Gryffindor so she didn't have to slink back into the Great Hall and find the prefects.

She'd made it to the third floor before a hand on her arm stopped her. She whipped around instinctively, hand flying out to attack her assailant—the result of six brothers who liked to tease.

He caught her hand easily. "Not so fast. I think I have something of yours." She jerked her wrist out of his grip and took a few steps back. Malfoy, of course, come to torment her.

"My wand," she said, holding out her hand for it.

"You're not going to say please?" he said, and it was like a switch had been flipped in her mind. The memory of her on the ground, looking up at him, terrified that he was going to kill her. Him saying those same words. "_You're not going to say please?"_

"You fucking cunt," she hissed. He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

"My, my, such language from such a little girl. Wherever did you learn such awful things?"

"You would be one to know of awful things, Malfoy," she said.

He lifted his chin, crossing his arms in front of himself. "You need your wand for classes tomorrow. I daresay you're not acting like it."

Voices drifted down the corridor; the feast must have ended. Ginny sighed. "Give me my wand, Malfoy," she said, holding out her hand. He looked down his nose at her and raised an eyebrow. A few seconds passed before Ginny realized. Biting her tongue and looking down at the floor, she relented. "Please," she muttered.

He made a mocking "I-can't-hear-you" motion, cupping his hand behind his ear.

Ginny scowled. "You heard me, you got what you wanted, now give me my wand back."

He half-laughed, tossing her wand without regard to if she would be able to catch it. "Didn't quite get what I came for but I guess it will do for now." Her wand clattered on the floor a few feet to her right. "Watch yourself, Weasley," he tossed over his shoulder as he left.

With a grumble, Ginny collected her wand off of the floor as a horde of Hufflepuffs swarmed down the corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Students had started talking about the events before the summer—or "The Thing with the Astronomy Tower" as it was commonly becoming known. Most first years only had fragments of the story and were dying to know more, and the older students were more than happy to oblige. Everyone had an opinion and wanted to share it, talking about the politics they didn't understand and the Ministry and Harry and You-Know-Who and what it all meant. Breakfast was a buzz, the Thing with the Astronomy Tower on everyone's lips and mind. Students continually glanced sidelong at their new headmaster, knowing without a doubt that if anyone was capable of murdering Albus Dumbledore, it would be him. Malfoy received full on stares, especially from the first years. He didn't seem to mind—in fact, he seemed to bask in the attention. Merlin knows, the Malfoys live for attention be it good or bad.

The thought surprised Ginny, who blinked in realization. The solution to her earlier problem with Malfoy would have been to ignore him, wouldn't it have? But how were you supposed to let someone go on with their daily life not knowing exactly how much you despise them? Lest her silence be mistaken for passivity, acceptance, or worst of all, compliance.

She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head, begging her to keep her head down and stay safe. She shook her head to clear it. What she had done, hitting Malfoy on the train, was not keeping her head down. It was reflex. But Harry wouldn't want her provoking Malfoy, so she silently promised herself that she wouldn't again. Not intentionally, anyway.

After breakfast was Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. The room was exactly the same, Ginny knew, but for some reason this year it seemed a bit more cramped and stuffy despite the smaller number of students. Ginny sat next to Luna, who immediately started talking about the latest edition of the Quibbler in soft, melodic tones. Ginny suspected they were personal musings spoken aloud only for her benefit. She didn't much feel like contributing to a conversation, and somehow Luna must have picked up on that. Luna hushed midsentence as McGonagall stood from her desk to begin class.

"Quiet down," she said out of habit. The classroom had dissolved into obedient silence before she had spoken. "You must have a lot of questions," she began, stern voice carrying easily through the room. A few students opened their mouths to ask the questions she had noted, but she held up a hand and continued. "And you are welcome to come to my office to ask them. However, there are a few things I think you should know first.

"Professor Snape, as you are well aware, is now Headmaster. I expect you all to treat him with the same respect you treated Professor Dumbledore. Do not assume that his change in title did not come with an increase in leverage. He is no longer your Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and so he will not be as lenient as he once was." Here some students scoffed. McGonagall whirled on them. "Excuse me," she said, her tone hard as a board, "what did I just say about respect?" She allowed the class' silence to hang over all of their heads for several long minutes.

"There have been rumors," she continued, beginning to pace the front of the classroom, "concerning our Headmaster's character. These rumors are irrelevant and you would do well to cease perpetuating them." Ginny looked down at her hands. There was dirt under her fingernails. Whatever, it matched her shabby robes and stringy hair. She had stopped putting effort into her appearance some time ago. Luna shifted in her chair next to Ginny, putting her chin her hands and leaning her elbows on her desk. As strange as her wide, slightly protuberant eyes were, her skin was smooth and flawless and she carried with her a confidence that was incredibly attractive.

"You will also find," McGonagall was saying, "that lack of respect towards _any _faculty will land you squarely in detention." The Carrows, Ginny realized. She's speaking of the Carrow siblings.

"Weasley." Ginny glanced up. Oh, she was speaking of herself, Ginny realized. Merlin's bloody beard. McGonagall had stopped pacing. "It is considered respectful to look at someone when they are speaking to you," she said with a pointed stare at Ginny.

Ginny blushed. "I was wondering, Professor," she said, "if Snape asked you to give us this speech."

McGonagall blinked. "I see you've brought your cheek back for another term at Hogwarts, Weasley. You will address our headmaster as either Headmaster Snape or Professor Snape, for starters, and you answer your most ignorant and rude questions, no, I was not asked to waste class time in order to discuss this subject with you. Changing faculty is always hard I thought I would attempt to acclimate you all. Obviously I am wasting my time. Have you got this all figured out, Weasley?"

Ginny felt her ears get hot. "Are we not going to talk about how the school is run by Death Eaters now?" she said, but her voice was small. She sounded dejected and hated it.

McGonagall shook her head. "It will do no good. Now—" she raised her voice, once again assuming the tone she used to address the entire class, "your parents have entrusted the staff of this school to your safety, and we will do all we can to ensure that their trust was not misplaced. She paused to ensure her words sunk in. "We have wasted enough class time; if you would turn in your textbooks, we will get started. Chapters one and two are review. If you would like a refresher, I would suggest looking over them before class tomorrow. If you will each come forward and collect a goblet, we will be transfiguring bronze to silver today…"

McGonagall had not prepared the Gryffindors well enough for their next class, Muggle Studies with the Carrow sister. Muggle Studies had been changed from an elective to a required class, frustratingly enough. Alecto was short and stocky, with red hair duller and frizzier than Ginny's that she pulled back into a tight bun at the top of her head. Fly-aways framed her face and caught the light when she moved, throwing a bronze sheen that was altogether unpleasant coupled with her colouring. Ginny slunk into a seat at the back of the class, touching her own red hair self-consciously. Surely it wasn't as bad as Carrow's. It was a dark, almost auburn red, mostly straight and smooth but with a slight curl at the ends. Or, it usually had that little curl when it wasn't unwashed and stringy. Ginny, suddenly embarrassed about her appearance, resolved to shower before dinner. The classroom was dim and stuffy and hot and this time it wasn't her imagination. She found herself pushing all of her hair over her right shoulder to get it off her neck.

The class had finished settling in and Ginny looked around, again surprised by how few students there were. There couldn't have been more than ten people total. With all of the Muggle-borns gone for safety reasons, and some half- and pure-bloods too, Ginny realized that she wasn't quite sure of everyone's first name. Outside of Colin Creeevy, Luna Lovegood, Ron's friends, and the Quidditch team, she had made no friends. And now, with Colin gone, most of Ron's year and the Quidditch team absent, and Luna in a different house, she was going to have to.

Carrow hopped up to sit on her desk, facing the few of them. "Gryffindor sixth years. Welcome to Muggle Studies. Merlin, there are so few of you! I had Slytherin third years last hour and there must have been twice as many of them as you! I expect you all to be better behaved than them. You are older and more mature. Plus, since there are fewer of you if won't be hard for me to get to know you. If you decide to be disrespectful, I can guarantee you will regret it." She talked in a pleasantly deep, softly lilting voice. The voice of a singer. Her tone was professional for the most part, although Ginny could detect Carrow's mocking and sarcasm beneath it. Ginny was surprised. She had encountered Alecto before the summer, during the Thing with the Astronomy Tower. Then she had been laughing, the rasping, shrieking laugh of someone who too often indulged in the steaming and smoking potions. The kind of potions you had to ask for with a wink and a nudge to the right person at the right bar. The kind of potions Ginny had walked in on the twins indulging in one time a few years ago. The kind they had made her promise never to try. Before the summer, Alecto had been running down the halls of Hogwarts, screaming about the death of Albus Dumbledore, sending harsh curses every which way. Ginny had almost run straight into her when she was exiting the secret passage she had jumped into after—

"_Weasley, Weasley, Weasley. You give me no incentive."_

Ginny jumped, unexpected rage coursing through her at the memory. Her hands began to shake slightly. She glared at Carrow. _Do not be fooled by her demeanor. Malfoy let her in._

Carrow hopped off of her desk and walked over to the chalkboard. "This class will rely very little on the practical application of magic. Most days will be note-taking, with weekly quizzes and bi-weekly essays. If you fall behind in the class, it will be hard to pull your grades back up. I do not give extra credit. I do not show favoritism. If you do not take notes or do your work, you will fail. This will put you behind for graduation and your NEWT's. I wouldn't risk it. I am also unafraid to take House Points. Keep this in mind. Now—" here she flicked her wand at the chalkboard. Several bullet points appeared under the title "Witch Burnings, or The Defining Era of Oppression." "We're going to start with the Witch Burnings, as this is the turning point in magical and Muggle relationships from peaceful coexistence—as exhibited in the Merlin and Arthur symbiotic relationship—towards violence."

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was hard to expect anything other than a rant on the lower and less-deserving nature of Muggles, but it was another thing to sit through it and be expected to write an essay echoing these beliefs.

Carrow clasped her hands behind her back. "Now, who in here has any teeny bit of Muggle blood in their family? Any relations? Any Squibs? Come on, don't be shy, it's highly prevalent. I'm proving a point here, nothing more."

_Keep your head down and your mouth shut. Keep your head down and your mouth shut._ But even as Ginny told herself that, she felt her hand go up. She glanced around the dim room, expecting other hands but none had lifted. Shite.

"Yes, girl, you there. What's your name?" Carrow called, pointing at her hand.

Ginny glanced around the room again. Everyone was staring at her. She cleared her throat nervously. "Ginny Weasley."

"Weasley. Yes, I know you. Stand up, girl."

Ginny stood, ears hot with embarrassment. How hard would it have been to keep her head down like her mother had asked her? Blend into the admittedly small crowd?

"Now, Weasley, where are the Muggles in your bloodline?" Carrow stared at her like a wolf eyeing a plump chicken, a huge smile splitting her face and showing white teeth.

"Ginny cleared her throat again and nervously pushed her hair from her right shoulder to her left. "My mother's second cousin married a Muggle. He works as—well, I'm not entirely sure but it has to do with stocks or finance or something."

Carrow's eyes widened further. "He holds a Muggle profession, you mean?"

Anger flared in her chest. "Yes," said Ginny tensely. She shifted her weight, clasping her hands behind her back so as not to reveal their shaking.

"How humiliating. So he hides his magic from his wife?"

Ginny winced at the word "humiliating." There was a time when her own mother had called it that. There was a time when she had called it that. Her stomach turned. "He was never quite talented to begin with, I'm told," Ginny admitted.

Carrow's eyes sparkled. "Oh, so you've never met him? I imagine with your otherwise spotless bloodline, he must be quite the embarrassment."

Ginny's jaw clenched and she unconsciously ground her teeth together. He was an embarrassment. Every so often Percy brought him up as an example of the lowest point in life—usually as an insinuation that that was where Ron was heading. "Quite the opposite," she lied. "He is embarrassed of us. His wife is uneasy with the cultural differences, and to make her more comfortable he associates little with us or the magical world as a whole. He gave up his family and magic to be with the woman he loved." The last part wasn't a lie. She had heard the story enough times from her mother.

Carrow's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure she didn't blackmail him into cutting these connections? Or into marriage, even? Imagine what the Muggles would do to a known wizard. She probably holds him hostage into doing magical favors for her, such as housework and medical attention—"

"Oh, bullshite!" Ginny exclaimed before she could stop herself. There was a collective gasp from the rest of the class. Undaunted, she continued. "So two people fall in love and they set aside their differences to live in harmony and make it last. It happens all the time!" She had unconsciously crossed her arms in front of her chest during the speech.

Carrow frowned at her outburst. "In _Pyramus and Thisbe _maybe, but this is real life, little girl. True love doesn't exist. Your bleeding romantic heart blinds you to the evils of the world."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Carrow began storming up the aisle between the desks towards her.

"Oh, wait. That's right. You're Potter's girl." Carrow spat his name. "I heard he 'broke up with you,' left you to hide from the Dark Lord like the coward he is. If he really wanted you, he would have taken you with him, wouldn't 'ave he? Hole you two up so you can shag like the rabbits you are until the Dark Lord finds him and gives him the miserable ending to his miserable life that he deserves. But I guess he got bored with you. Didn't want you anymore. Did he promise to stay true? Did he say it was 'for the best'? Oh, noble Potter."

By now Carrow had reached Ginny's desk and seized her shoulder, dragging her to the front of the classroom. "You want to know what's bullshite?" she continued. "Whatever speech he gave you before he disappeared. Let me tell you something. Potter didn't disappear to fight the Dark Lord. He disappeared to prolong his own life. He knows his end is coming, and that's probably why he brought that filthy Muggle-born girl with him, to keep him company on those cold nights—"

Ginny didn't realize what happened until moments after its occurrence. Something clear and wet was dripping down Carrow's check and her hand was rubbing her eye as if it stung. Her mout was open in shock as she stared up at Ginny with her right eye. It seemed as though time had frozen. An owl hooted as if flew past the closed window on the way to the Owlery. Ginny gulped.

Someone—Ginny didn't look to see who—exclaimed in a hushed whisper, "Weasley just _spit _on a Professor!"

_No,_ Ginny thought, _I just spit on a Death Eater._

And then Carrow smiled, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her robes. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, for your outburst and use of profanity. And detention for physically assaulting and disrespecting a teacher. Also—"

Ginny didn't hear the rest over the scream that escaped her, but her mind slowly pieced together what the incantation must have been. She felt like white-hot knives were slicing through her, flaying skin off the bone and burning her insides. She heard, as if from far away, her shoulders popping out and painfully back into joint. Her eyes rolled back into her head, the head that felt like someone had decided to lobotomize her on the spot. And then it was over. She found herself on the ground looking up at Carrow as her vision cleared. Her joints ached and her skin prickled unpleasantly. The faces of her classmates were turned towards her, all pale and pinched. With as much dignity as she could muster, she gathered herself off of the floor and smoothed her shabby robes and dusted herself off. As if from a distance, she heard Carrow rambling details about her new evening plans.

"Report to the Entrance Hall at nine sharp tonight for your detention. I'm sure you will not be alone." She followed this with another one of her horrible, wheezing laughs.


	4. Chapter 4

As Carrow had suggested, Ginny found she would not be alone in her detention. She arrived at the Entrance Hall at nine o'clock sharp—she felt somehow that being early would have been a sign of repentance, but she also couldn't risk another detention for being late. Already gathered in the Entrance Hall were three younger students—probably first or second years—who Ginny didn't recognize and a Hufflepuff in Ginny's own year. She had dark brown hair shoved into a messy ponytail with smaller bits framing a tanned face. She saw Ginny and smiled, lips painted a bright bubblegum pink stretching back to show perfectly straight teeth. Ginny smiled back and walked over to her, wishing beyond wish that she could remember the girl's name.

She had just greeted the other girl when the doors opened again to admit Filch, flanked by the Head Boy and Girl. Ginny's eyes immediately drew to Malfoy, who was leaning against the closed door that had just admitted him, arms crossed and face sour. He eyed the younger students with disdain before glancing over at Ginny and the Hufflepuff. Ginny glanced away quickly, but not before she saw his pale face twist into a smirk.

"Alright," Filch said, rubbing his hands together and sucking a breath in through his teeth, "we've got ourselves a nice bunch here for detention today. And on the first day of classes, too! You lot must be truly terrible."

The younger students looked at each other nervously. Still leaning against the doors, Malfoy rolled his eyes.

Filch looked over the group of five and sucked in another breath unpleasantly. "Let's see. You three there—" he pointed a dirty finger at the younger ones—"will be with Mr. Malfoy here. You'll be serving detention in the trophy room tonight. You two—" he pointed to Ginny and the Hufflepuff—"Weasley and Jones. You'll be with Ms. Brocklehurst on the perimeter."

Ginny felt like kicking herself. Megan Jones. Of course. She watched as Malfoy snapped at the younger students to "get a move on" and "follow him," grateful she wouldn't get another chance to piss him off. Mandy Brocklehurst strode forward, instructing the girls to follow her outside.

The three girls passed through the huge doors at the entrance to the castle. The air outside was humid and warm, the first chills of fall having yet to set in. Ginny breathed deeply, filling her lungs with fresh air. She hadn't realized how trapped the castle had made her feel today until she walked outside. Mandy led them down the steps and turned to face them, blue eyes reflecting the twinkling lights of the castle behind Ginny and Megan, matching the Ravenclaw blue of the crest on her robes. She pushed her curly brown hair behind her shoulder impatiently and crossed her arms.

"Okay, girls," she said, "we're going to the entrance gate near Hogsmeade station. And we're going to walk. Yes, all that way. When we get there, you're going to be reinforcing the wards. That isn't to say that they need reinforcing, but it couldn't hurt and it should be good practice for you two. You're both sixth years?" Ginny and Megan nodded. "Then you know anti-intruder jinxes? You should have been taught them last year." Ginny and Megan nodded again. "Good. Keep in mind this isn't social hour, and the sooner you get this done, the sooner we get to go to bed."

Mandy turned on her heel and led them down the path the carriages normally took to the train station, lighting her wand along the way. Megan sighed and Ginny shrugged and they made to follow Mandy, also lighting their wands. Ginny let Mandy get a little ahead of them on the path before she spoke.

"So what'd you do to get detention?" she said in hushed tones.

Megan shook her head, making the dark hair around her face sway. "I didn't have my textbook for Dark Arts. I'm sharing with a seventh year and she wasn't at lunch to give it to me. When Carrow asked me why I didn't have it, I told him that Diagon Alley didn't normally sell Dark objects and I was unable to find it. He gave me detention for 'mouthing off.'"

"That's rough."

"It's true. Flourish and Blotts won't carry it. They told me I'd have to go down to Knockturn Alley to get it and Mum wouldn't let me. She said it'd be best to go without and share with a classmate."

Ginny smiled sadly. "I wouldn't know. I wasn't allowed to go shopping this summer. My books were owl-ordered."

Megan nodded. "I think most everyone's were. Diagon Alley is a rough place nowadays."

Ginny made a noise of agreement. They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes, walking slowly on the uneven pathway. The darkness seemed oppressive, closing in on them but for the three lighted wands they held aloft. Mandy occasionally glanced back at them to make sure they weren't falling too far behind. Ginny was beginning to feel sticky from the humidity and pushed up the sleeves of her robes in annoyance.

About five minutes of silent walking later, Megan spoke up.

"So what did you do to get detention?" she asked.

Ginny laughed nervously. "I spit on the Carrow bitch."

Megan gave a surprised bark of laughter, earning them a stern glance from Mandy. In a quieter voice she said, "Wow, you have some serious guts. She's a fright, that one."

Ginny shrugged. "I was calling it anger issues, but I guess that works too."

Megan grinned. "So there's a party Saturday night in the Hufflepuff basement. If you want to come, consider yourself invited."

Ginny lit up. A party invitation, and at a different house at that. "I'll be there," she said, unable to keep the elation out of her voice. Perhaps she was making new friends.

"D'ya know where it is?" the other girl asked.

Ginny looked at the sky, trying to remember where it was. "Uh, no," she admitted.

Megan hit her shoulder playfully. "That's alright. We like to keep it that way. You know where the kitchens are? It's in a nook on the right-hand side of that corridor. The stack of barrels? You want to tap the top of the barrel that's two from the bottom, the middle of the second row. And you want to tap 'Helga Hufflepuff.'" She demonstrated the rhythm by tapping her leg as she said the words.

Ginny nodded, hoping she could remember all the information. Why couldn't she just go to a portrait and say a password? Hufflepuffs were proving to be incredibly difficult.

Megan sobered, looking past the other girl to the dark edge of the path. "The textbook for Defense Against the Dark Arts has a chapter on the Unforgivable Curses. You don't think… we'll have to perform those, do you?"

Ginny grimaced. "I don't know, Megan," she said. _Probably._

All in all it had taken them almost a half an hour to reach the entrance gate. The wrought-iron gate was nestled between two tall and formidable-looking pillars, each topped with a winged boar. The curling iron of the gate itself was pretty enough, but Ginny knew better than to mistake it for decoration. Try to cross the perimeter without an invitation and you could end up, well… not dead, per se, but still. The gate was set into a high stone wall that stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, marking the entire perimeter of the school grounds. Huge lanterns burned at wide intervals along the wall, lighting up the dark night. Mandy turned to them again and saw the two girls surveying the immense length of the wall.

"Don't worry, you're not doing all of it tonight. Just as much as you can get done in an hour," she said. _An hour?_ Ginny groaned. She wasn't going to get into bed until at least midnight at this rate. And with another brutal round of classes tomorrow, she doubted she'd survive the week.

Mandy looked at the wall and then back at them. "Okay, Weasley, you take the left side. Jones, you take the right and work from there. Hurry up. The faster you get started the sooner we all can go back inside."

Ginny nodded and approached the pillar directly to the left of the gate. She doused her wand—with the lanterns burning brightly along the wall, she no longer needed her own wand lit. Concentrating, she pointed her wand at the base of the wall. This wasn't a spell she had practiced since she had learned it last year. She hadn't even bothered studying it for her O.W.L.s last year.

She spoke the incantation softly and drew her wand upwards, hoping she didn't look like an idiot in front of the other two girls. Indigo light followed the line her wand had made, sinking into the wall from base to top. On the other side of the gate, Megan made a frustrated noise. Her spell had dissolved before it hit the wall. Ginny watched as she shook her head, planted her feet, and tried again.

Ginny moved a meter down the wall and repeated the spell. Again, a line of indigo light sunk into the wall neatly. She pushed her hair out of her face and glanced over at Megan. Mandy had gone over to the other girl to give her some pointers. Ginny smiled, proud of herself for getting the hang of the spell after so long without practice. Then she mentally chided herself from being cocky. _Stupid bint. Don't you remember the last time you forgot your place?_

Ginny moved along the wall. How the _fuck_ could she ever forget? Angry with herself, her next spell wasn't a fluid line, more of a squiggle caused by her shaking hands. She passed her wand to her left hand to shake her right at her side, hoping to stop the tremors. _Try again._

She remembered her hands covered in blood, finding cat hair on her robes, finding rooster feathers in her hair. She remembered walking around the school with her head high, because for once in her life, someone was paying attention to her. For once, someone was recognizing her achievements, complementing her spellwork, complementing her personality, her thoughts, her ideas. She remembered spending extra time on her hair, smoothing out her robes, practicing cosmetic spells and potions because she felt like she deserved to look pretty, to look like how she felt inside because she was _so goddamn happy_. So happy because of Tom. She remembered waking up in the Chamber, Harry above her, concern painting his face, and she knew, _she fucking knew_ that he would never want her now. He had enough reminders of You-Know-Who in his life without a girlfriend who had been possessed by him.

Her spell dissolved in front of her face. "Shite." She kicked at the ground, frustrated.

"Weasley. Watch your tongue," Mandy called over.

Ginny squeezed her eyes closed. "Sorry," she called back. _No, you're not. You've never been sorry in your life._

Funny. Before Harry had been able to make her happy, Tom had. And now Tom was the reason Harry wasn't here to make her happy again.

_Think of something else. Concentrate._

She looked at the ground and bit her lip, trying the spell again. _Concentrate._ Unbidden, another memory came to her mind. Flourish and Blotts before her first year. Her mother, entranced by Lockhart. Herself, entranced by Harry. No one noticing the senior Malfoy giving her Tom's diary. Harry was too busy having words with the Malfoy brat.

Twelve-year-old Malfoy had rendered Ginny speechless at first. His entire demeanor reminded her of where she came from and where he didn't. Everything about him screamed wealth, from his aristocratic nose to his perfectly combed hair to his tailored robes. And he was still like that. Ginny scoffed to herself. In some form or fashion, every misfortune in her life could be blamed upon Malfoy, couldn't it?

You know what? Fuck him. Fuck his fancy robes and cruel words. Fuck his stupid smirk and his superiority complex and his perfect arse-

Ginny blinked as her spell dissolved again. Where had _that_ come from?

Ginny had neglected to shower before dinner like she had promised herself in class that morning, so when she decided she couldn't manage sleep after detention—despite the late hour—she grabbed her towel and pajamas and stalked to the bathroom.

The other sixth year Gryffindors stirred as she passed their beds, but the beds nearer to the bathroom were ominously silent. Ginny glanced quickly at the nearest one, taking in the perfectly made-up bed, yet to be touched by student hands. The crimson coverlet was smoothed neatly over the mattress, the pillows fluffed, waiting for a Gryffindor who wouldn't be attending Hogwarts this year. Maybe the girls who were here should push their beds together with the empty ones to make bigger beds? It would certainly make the room feel less empty.

Ginny glanced away from the vacant bed. She'd pass the idea to her roommates in the morning. She stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could. The bathroom was all white, with fluffy white mats on the white tile floor. Creamy-white flowers were painted on the stark-white walls, enchanted to fall off their vines every few minutes, allowing new ones to bloom in their place. Three showers hid behind three thick, white curtains set into the back wall. Three toilets sat behind three heavy white doors on the right wall. The wall across from the showers held three porcelain bowl sinks. The left wall had three white vanities pushed up against it, each set in front of an oval mirror trimmed in the same creamy white as the enchanted flowers.

The whole room gave Ginny a headache. The white bathrooms seemed so elegant in her first years at Hogwarts, but now everything about them made her eyes hurt. Ginny stared at the three showers. Last year she had always been waiting on one of them to vacate. Now, with only four sixth year female Gryffindors, she didn't think she'd have the same problem.

She picked a vanity at random and set her clothes on the stool. She stepped away to hang her towel near the shower but paused when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She was a drop of blood against the white background. Bloody red hair, bloody red robes. She stepped closer, peering at her own face in the mirror. Her eyes had sunken into her face, covered with dark shadows from lack of sleep. The brown of her eyes had reminded Harry of autumn, he'd told her, but now it just looked like someone had filled her iris with mud. Her face was pale, but looked fuller than it had at the beginning of the summer. Perhaps she was gaining weight from nervous eating. She shook her head and hung up her towel. The room was charmed to be comfortably warm, but when she removed her robes she shivered involuntarily. She caught her reflection in the mirror again as she was removing her bra. Harry had always been fascinated with the wide expanse of creamy white skin, dotted with freckles across her shoulders. Ginny stared at herself pensively. Was this the girl Harry had fallen in love with? She reminded herself of twelve-year-old Ginny, the one tormented by and recovering from Tom.

Without her robes, Ginny matched the white of the bathroom, except for her hair. It still stood out like a distress flare of sparks shot from someone's wand. She tugged at it, frustrated. Molly had asked her to keep her head down, but that wouldn't very well be possible with hair this bright.

Strange that the hair that made her invisible for five years suddenly made her stand out.

She finished removing her clothing and observed the body that Harry had been so taken with. She frowned, wondering if the month without him had really changed her so much, physically. Hips a little too wide, arse a little too big, breasts a little too small, shoulders slumped. She kicked her chin up and scowled at her reflection. What the hell was she doing? She'd always looked this way. She was being stupid. Being stupid when she should be showering. With a huff, she stalked to the shower.


	5. Chapter 5

By the end of the week, the student body had stopped referring to Defense Against the Dark Arts as "Defense" or "DADA" and simply started calling it "Dark Arts." The Carrow brother ran the class similarly to how Harry had run Quidditch practice: full of yelling, excitement, and calls to do better. Of course, Harry had also been encouraging. Amycus just paced in front of the students taking points for failure or "demonstrating" the spell again for them. _On them._ The spells they learned were cruel jinxes and curses not normally taught as part of the curriculum. Ginny found herself eager to show off her Bat-Bogey Hex, before she reminded herself it was for a class now commonly referred to as "Dark Arts."

Amycus stood much taller than Alecto, but shared her stocky build and pale skin. His height and width combined made him far more intimidating than his sister and he knew it. That isn't to say that Alecto didn't command her class well; Muggle Studies had quickly become the second most-disliked class Hogwarts had to offer after Arithmancy. Dark Arts reigned at third. Despite Amycus' cruel nature and penchant for shouting instead of speaking (and an occasional Cruciatus Curse on a misbehaving student), Ginny quickly noticed her fellow students becoming entranced by the power they could conjure when pressured into it. Strange smiles that lit the faces of students who managed to cast the assigned curse on their partner during class.

But students will be students, and despite the cruelty they were beginning to reveal, they began referring to Amycus and Alecto as "the Carrow bastard" and "the Carrow bitch" respectively. For an odd reason, no student yet had been reprimanded for saying these names.

Ginny found herself on Friday afternoon sitting on the floor in the common room with two scrolls due to the Carrow bitch, a scroll for McGonagall, and a finished potion for Slughorn due on Monday. She surveyed her assignments and put her head in her hands. If she did the Transfiguration essay now, she might have time to go down to the dungeons to work on her potion. If she skipped dinner, she might even be able to finish it. Then she could finish the potion on Saturday (if needed), do the bullshite for Muggle Studies before the Hufflepuff party and have a free day on Sunday to—

Hang out with Hermione, she'd been about to think. Dammit.

She shook her head, earning her a stare from a fourth year nearby. She glared hard at the boy and he looked away, but not as quickly as she would have liked. She rearranged her belongings about her, pulling some parchment into her lap and setting aside her Muggle Studies and Potions texts for later. She opened her Transfiguration book in front of her and flipped around until she got to the chapter she was looking for. Before she could read any of the text, however, a shadow fell across her book.

Ginny looked up in annoyance. A pair of third years stood in front of her, shifting their weight nervously. Ginny waited a few moments for them to speak, but when they didn't, she raised her eyebrows.

"Yes?" she asked.

One of the boys elbowed the other, who jumped and started talking very fast. "Er," he said, "We heard you were invited to a Hufflepuff party."

Ginny looked from one boy to the other and frowned. "Yeah," she said, stretching out the word.

"Er," the same boy said again, "We were—ah—wondering if you could, uh, take us with you?" The boy who had yet to speak elbowed his friend again. "I mean, invite us?" the boy amended quickly.

Ginny crossed her arms and looked them over for a second. "Boys," she said slowly, as if speaking to an animal, "do you know what this is?" She gestured to her Transfiguration book.

"It's a textbook," the talkative boy said.

"Do you know why I have it out?" Ginny continued, this time gesturing to the parchment on her lap.

"You're studying," the boy supplied again.

"Not just studying," Ginny responded. "I'm trying to write an essay. I have a mountain of homework due this weekend and I swear on Merlin's beard, if you disturb me again while I am trying to complete it, I will hex off your noses. That way, you can't stick them in my business again." She smiled brightly.

The boys looked at each other, nodded, and left without another word.

Ginny sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Time to get to work.

-

Ginny finished her Transfiguration essay as dinner was finishing up. She frowned, checking the clock on the wall of the common room. Her stomach growled. With a sigh, she began gathering her belongings. Maybe she'd go by the kitchens and grab some food on the way to start her potion. Or maybe not. She didn't feel like dealing with the House Elves, letting them down by not staying. Maybe she'd go after she finished her potion.

She crawled out of the portrait hole carelessly, losing her footing and tumbling into the corridor.

"Oh dear," the Fat Lady said as she swung shut. "Are you quite alright?"

"Fine, fine, just embarrassed," Ginny muttered as she made to gather her things off the floor. Luckily her inkpot hadn't shattered. It was her last one, and she'd be fucked without it. Luna would probably be kind enough to lend her a replacement, but knowing Luna the ink would probably change colours or comment on her grammar. Ginny retrieved her ink and tossed it in her bag, which she noticed had begun to split open at the seams again. She'd lost count of the times it had spit open on the way to class and she'd magically repaired it. With a sigh, she promised herself she'd attempt to fix it before it broke again.

She walked downstairs rather hurriedly, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream as the other students climbed upstairs in their return from dinner. She looked down, hoping to avoid the gaze of anyone she knew who might be so inclined to strike up a conversation. As she ended a staircase and rounded a corner, she remembered taking the same route on the night of Dumbledore's death.

She had been guarding the Room of Requirement with Neville and Ron when the corridor had gone dark. Someone must have used Peruvian Darkness Powder. In the darkness, she had heard voices. Familiar voices. Voices she remembered from the Hall of Prophecy the year before. Instinctively she'd broken into a run, trying to get out to the darkness to gain an advantage where she could see again—could see and could fight without risking injury to her friends. But as she'd emerged into the next corridor, she'd turned to find Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco Malfoy exiting the darkness as well. She'd shot off a few Stunners, knowing they would miss their marks and knowing she wouldn't be able to take both of them at the same time. When another Death Eater walked up behind them, shedding the darkness as one might shed a winter cloak, she'd made a decision and run. She had told herself she'd been hoping to draw them away from her friends.

In her heart she knew that fear had gripped her hard, making it difficult to think. She would be useless in a fight. She had abandoned Neville and her brother to an undetermined amount of Death Eaters.

"Was that the Weasley slag?" she'd heard Lestrange say from a distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. One pair of footsteps only, and closing in fast. And fear had made her heart speed up in her chest and her breath came in pants and she knew it was irrational but for some reason she felt as helpless in that moment as she had when she was eleven…

_Fuck._ Ginny shook her head to clear it. She looked around—somehow she had made it to the dungeons. Unlike on the stairs, she found herself completely and utterly alone. Which was comforting. She pushed open the door to the potions classroom slowly and descended the few stairs onto the classroom floor. Luckily, the room was vacant. Without distraction, she might be able to finish her potion before curfew.

She chose the desk in the corner in the back of the room and set down her stuff. She rifled through her bag for a minute to find her potions textbook. Setting it on her desk, she opened it to the dog-eared page containing the instructions for an Alihotsy draught. Frowning, she carried the textbook to the supply cupboard, balancing the book in her left hand and grabbing what she needed with her right. She had just tucked the first three ingredients to her potion under her left arm and was standing on her tiptoes to reach the bats' eyes at the back of the cabinet when the door to the classroom shut with a loud _bang_. Startled, she jerked once, and then again as a loud _pop_sounded from her feet. She glanced down, realizing belatedly that she had dropped the vial of bats' eyes. The eyes skittered away from her, rolling around her feet and under the supply cabinet. The vial lay shattered in the middle of the mess. Frustrated, she ran her right hand—now free—through her hair.

"Now look what you've done."

Ginny didn't have to look to know who had entered the room.

"It's your fault," she said in a tired voice. "Haven't you ever heard that it is impolite to sneak up on someone?"

"I'd hardly call it 'sneaking' to simply enter a room." Ginny huffed and carried the supplies she'd gathered so far back to her desk. The boy continued, "Aren't you going to clean up your mess?"

Ginny set her things down and whirled on him. He stood by the door at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets and mouth twisted into a smirk. His ice-blond hair was tousled as if he'd run down the hall or maybe been out flying. His eyes were covered in shadow, partly from the dimness of the room.

"That's rich, coming from you," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Seeing as you've never cleaned up a mess you've made in your life."

He frowned, eyes going steely. "What do you mean? How would you possibly know?"

Ginny gave a humorless bark of a laugh and spread her arms wide. "This!" she cried. "This! This Hogwarts, this England, this place! You've turned it to shite singlehandedly and I hope you're pleased with yourself. Do you think I_enjoy_ knowing that at least three of my brothers have a price on their heads? Do you think I _like_ knowing that there is a high chance that the next time I go home, my parents won't be there? Do you think I _wanted_ to come to Hogwarts this year, knowing that at least four Death Eaters would be in the school at any given moment?"

"And what makes you think that this is what _I_ wanted?" Malfoy shouted. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. Colour had risen high in his cheeks and his eyes gleamed with anger. Ginny blinked, unable to reconcile the angry Malfoy in front of her with the cool, smirking Malfoy who had pinned her on the stairs on the night of the Thing with the Astronomy Tower. A voice in Ginny's head told her she was playing with fire, to keep her head down and shut up, but her hands were shaking with fear and anger and her mouth was open before she realized what she was saying.

"And why the fuck wouldn't it be?" she screeched. "You're the one that let them into the castle. Hell, you're even one of them! You're the reason Dumbledore's dead. You're the reason that—" _Harry's gone,_ she'd been about to say. She bit her lip hard.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice that she had stopped talking midsentence. He stormed down the stairs next to the door onto the classroom floor and advanced on her. "Do not pretend, Weasley, that you know a single _fucking_ thing about me. You have no place to make assumptions about me, nor should you presume that I give a flying fuck about your mundane opinions."

He'd crossed the classroom in just a few quick strides. Ginny made an embarrassing squeak as he neared her and took a few steps back, accidentally backing herself up against the wall. She drew her wand out of her sleeve as inconspicuously as she could and held it by her side.

"And what gives you the right?" Malfoy continued. "What gives you the right to determine the motives behind my actions? You attempt to pass blame where it is not due, little girl."

Ginny lifted her chin and made eye contact. He was very close to her now, using his height to intimidate her. She took a deep breath—and again couldn't help being surprised that he smelled of sandalwood. Her face heated and she hoped he mistook it for anger, which wasn't far off anyway. She was still plenty pissed.

"'Little girl?'" she repeated, venom in her voice.

Malfoy's upper lip curled. "Oh, yes, I remember your 'famous' Bat-Bogey Hex in Umbridge's office. Quite unpleasant, that. But beside a talent for stupid jinxes, you really are small and useless."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort but found no words. Fear was gripping her heart again. Small and useless. Exactly how she felt her first year.

And he continued, "Look, you're so short and thin." He grabbed her upper arm, easily wrapping his entire hand around it fully. "Surprising you're even allowed on the Quidditch team, you look so breakable. But I guess Potter taught you how to take a pounding."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Get off me," she hissed.

Malfoy grinned. "Oh, seems I've hit a nerve."

"Let go of me." His hand tightened around her arm and her stomach turned. She could feel each of his fingers twitching around her arm. Heat flared on the back of her neck.

Malfoy leaned forward. She could feel his breath on her face and tried to edge further backwards but the wall behind her was unforgiving. His grey eyes held her gaze. The hand not holding her wand—the one connected to the arm he was holding—balled into a fist, nails digging deep into her palms. "I know what happened to you during second year," he whispered. "In the Chamber of Secrets—"

Her wand came up and an incantation was out of her mouth before he could finish the sentence. The Stunner tossed him across the room, scattering desks along the way. He hit the opposite wall with a loud crack—probably his head hitting the stone—and slid to the floor.

But he was up a moment later, and Ginny sucked in a breath and raised her wand again but he was already across the room. Too fast for her to track, he was knocking her wand hand to the side and shoving her into the wall with his hands on her shoulders. Another loud crack resounded—her head hitting the stone wall this time.

"You little bitch," Malfoy hissed, but he sounded surprised. As if he hadn't expected a reaction.

"You're the b-bitch," she said back, stumbling over her words. Stars danced in front of her vision and she felt hot all over, like she was dehydrated. "You're the one to take the cheap shots."

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something else but Ginny beat him to it. She leaned forward, straining against his hands where he held her shoulders, putting her face mere inches from him. "Go fuck yourself, Malfoy," she said. "You and all the other Death Eaters in this place can just go fuck yourselves."

"I'm not—" Malfoy started. Ginny raised her eyebrows. He returned her gaze a few more moments before he stepped back, pulling her shoulders away from the wall only to slam her back into it. Her vision swam as her head bounced off the stones. A ringing started in her ears.

"Burn in hell, little girl," he said. He released her, turning and stalking out of the classroom. Ginny waited until the door slammed behind him and the distant sound of his footsteps had faded before she let herself sag against the wall in exhaustion.

She stared at her shoes. Somehow one of the bat's eyes from the vial she'd spilt had rolled all the way to this corner of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

For some reason Ginny found it almost impossible to get out of bed the next morning. By the time she had accomplished the feat and showered, lunch was halfway over. She walked into the Great Hall with hair still wet from the shower, passing Luna who was on her way out.

"Hallo, Ginny," Luna said in that dreamy voice of hers. "Decided to eat, I see."

Ginny laughed a little, unsure of what to make of the comment. "Yeah?" she said.

"Then I'll sit with you," Luna said decisively and took Ginny's arm. Ginny let herself be led to the end of the Gryffindor table, a little ways away from the rest of the students. Luna pushed Ginny to a seat and leaned close to her. Ginny blinked hard as the strong scent of honeysuckle washed over her, making her want to sneeze. Luna had taken to the scent sometime last year and Ginny had never gotten used to it.

"You look good in those robes," Luna commented loudly.

Ginny wondered if she was trying to make a show to someone listening in. Looney Lovegood, after all. "Uh, thanks?" she said, glancing down at herself. She'd put on her good robes today, the green ones that made her hair look like fire. They were wrinkled from being folded improperly, so they didn't exactly look like her best robes, but Ginny still found herself pulling on the stitching, admiring the pattern.

"I have something to tell you," Luna whispered, lips very close to Ginny's ear. Ginny nodded and casually began filling her plate. "Don't look up, but Malfoy is staring at you."

Ginny's head shot up immediately, and found herself staring at the wall. Clever Luna, facing her away from the Slytherin tables. Ginny nodded and picked up her fork, now concentrating on looking normal while she ate.

Luna pinched her upper arm hard. "I told you not to look up. Now he's glaring at me. You're not very good at being inconspicuous, are you? Never mind, I should have known." Ginny fought another sneeze as Luna scooted even closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder, probably to hide her lips while she spoke. "I'm worried about Father," Luna murmured. "The Quibbler isn't printing things that the Ministry likes to hear, and I got an owl yesterday that—well, I know that it had already been opened, but my father asked about my well-being, you see. I'm not saying it's an unusual event, him asking me how I am—actually, it happens very regularly. Pretty much whenever I see him, he says, 'Hello, Luna, how are you?' and I say, 'I'm fine, really, and yourself?'" Ginny decided at that moment to elbow her friend.

Luna sat back and stared at Ginny hard. Ginny took a huge bite of potatoes so as not to have to explain to Luna that she'd gotten off track again. Understanding slowly filled Luna's expression, and she leaned forward again. "Sorry. But it struck me odd the way he wrote the letter—I can't explain it—but I'm worried that something—well, something isn't right, is all."

This time when Luna sat back her face was carefully composed. She ran a finger through Ginny's shepherd pie, mucking up the crust, and licked it thoughtfully. Ginny looked down at her plate. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Luna," she said.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't lie to me. Nothing good comes of lying, you know."

Ginny turned to stare at her friend. Luna stared back soberly with eyes as large as dinner plates. "I'm almost positive I know what's going to happen. And I'm almost positive that I cannot prevent it," she said in a voice that carried with it the first chill of winter.

Ginny put down her fork; it clattered against her plate loudly. "I will help you in any way I can," Ginny promised.

Luna smiled. "No, you can't and you won't." Then she rose from her seat and left the Great Hall without a backwards glance, leaving Ginny with a cold pit in her stomach. Her food was suddenly tasteless. She pushed her plate away in disgust and rose from her seat. By sleeping in she was horribly behind schedule. Her potion was finished and her Transfiguration essay was done, but the Muggle Studies assignment was by far going to be the hardest assignment of the weekend.

She had almost made it past the Slytherin table without remembering Luna's words, but at the last moment, she did. _Malfoy is staring at you._ She couldn't help it as she subtly scanned the Slytherin table.

It was like a Stinging Hex when her eyes met his from where he sat glaring at her from across the hall. Her first instinct was to look away, but she reminded herself that he had been the one staring at her, not the other way around. She lifted an eyebrow at him. He had left her alone last night after she'd told him to fuck off. He'd leave her alone again.

He proved her right a moment later when he turned his head to the side, obscuring his face from her view. Slightly satisfied and a little disappointed, Ginny dropped her gaze and made her way out of the Great Hall. As she passed through the doorway, her thoughts were dragged back to Luna. Of course the Death Eaters would target Xenophilius Lovegood. At present, he was the only source of media to actively defend Harry and his actions.

Harry. Oh god. The air around Ginny suddenly felt humid and oppressive as she waited for the staircase in front of her to change to a more favourable direction. She grabbed the banister for support. Maybe she was dehydrated. Maybe Harry had forgotten her. Maybe she should forget about her Muggle Studies essay and go lie down. Maybe Harry was thinking about her.

His face materialized in her mind and she bit her lip. The shaggy black hair, the lightning scar, the green eyes… but wait. She stomped her foot, as if that would bring the vision back. She concentrated and screwed up her eyes and bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood, but try as she might…

She knew what he was supposed to look like. Black, unkempt hair. Green eyes. Lightning scar. But those features drifted on a blurred plane in her memory. What did his skin look like? His lips? Those lips she had kissed countless times in stolen moments. A sinking feeling grabbed stomach and pulled. She could not remember the face of her lover.

She heard someone screaming as pain erupted on the tips of her fingernails and shot up her arms. The air around her was pressing in too hard, suffocating her with its weight. Her face felt hot. The world was ending, she was sure.

Her vision erupted into stars as the back of her head slammed against something very solid, right on the spot that had been hit repeatedly last night. She slid to the ground slowly, a groan escaping her. Her throat hurt. Her legs had decided not to cooperate. Someone was speaking. The harsh screaming had stopped. There was a ringing in her ears.

"Ms. Weasley, can you hear me?" Whoever was speaking sounded pissed. She blinked her eyes very hard and forced herself to focus. She was staring at black shoes poking out from beneath the hem of a heavy black robe. She forced herself to nod. It was like she could feel her brain sloshing back and forth inside her head.

"And what in Merlin's name has gotten into you today?" She dragged her eyes up the figure in front of her. Snape. Great, just what she needed. "Uncontrolled magic from a sixth year? I never thought I'd live to see the day." Snape usually spoke slowly, picking every word with care, but Ginny was sure he didn't speak _this_ slowly. She attempted to shake her head to clear it, but the pounding inside her head only increased. Slowly, she noticed the scorch marks on the banister over by the stairs. What had happened?

"You and you." Snape pointed to two boys Ginny didn't know. "Take Ms. Weasley up to the infirmary. Ms. Weasley, I trust we will discuss this later in my office?" Snape was glaring at her. Ginny forced herself to nod. Molly had hoped Snape would keep Ginny safe. Molly believed Snape wasn't entirely heartless. Molly was stupid.

Ginny allowed herself to be pulled to her feet by the two boys, who led her away without a word. She glanced backwards at Snape and wondered vaguely what the point of Hogwarts even was nowadays.

-

Madam Pomfrey had clicked her tongue at Ginny, shoved a potion for pain into her hands, warned her not to drink it all at once, and sent her on her way. Ginny stood outside of the doors to the Hospital Wing feeling stupid and lost. She had performed uncontrolled wandless magic. According to one of the Ravenclaw boys who had escorted her, fire had engulfed her hands and the banister before Snape had Stunned her. The scream she remembered was her own, and Snape had rushed out of the Great Hall at the sound of it to investigate.

Ginny shook her head, making it pound in an altogether unpleasant way. She shoved the vial of pain potion into the pocket of her robes. Maybe she should go to Gryffindor tower and brush herself off. Work on the Muggle Studies assignment. And then there was the party tonight in the Hufflepuff dormitories. She'd almost forgotten. She had plenty of time before the party to start and finish the essay, right? Shite, she didn't think she'd be able to make herself write that today. Not with these thoughts of Harry dancing around in her head. Or rather, the lack thereof.

She remembered the Department of Mysteries. Being there, fighting by Harry's side to rescue Sirius… she had felt like she really, truly belonged. She had felt important. Crucial, even. Now she felt forgotten.

She resigned herself to staring at a blank sheet of parchment in her bedroom for almost an hour, letting thoughts of Harry and sometimes Ron dance around in her head. She was tempted to get under the covers of her bed and go back to sleep after only being awake three hours. To distract herself she tried flipping through her new Dark Arts textbook. She wasn't really thinking much of it—maybe she and Luna and Neville should attempt to continue the D.A. in Harry's absence?—when she came across an unfamiliar spell. She scanned the description: "Causes internal hemorrhaging. Can be lethal if used on the same subject multiple times."

Ginny shuddered and shut the book with a snap. Was there ever going to be a year at Hogwarts when someone didn't die or come close? She only had one year left after this one, assuming that Harry would be able to defeat You-Know-Who within the next few months. Merlin, what an impossible task, even for the Boy Who Lived. She wondered how he was handling it.

Plenty fine without her, probably. He's got Hermione and her brother with him, right? That should be sufficient, shouldn't it?

But despair was gripping Ginny's heart like a vise.

-

Luckily for Ginny she ran into Megan Jones as dinner was ending, so she didn't have to worry about finding the Hufflepuff dormitories on her own. The other girl's hot pink lipstick had sparkles in it that Ginny found hard to look at and not at all flattering, especially since it matched her bright pink robes. Ginny greeted her with a warm smile, hoping to hide her exhaustion under false enthusiasm.

"Ginny! There you are. Hope your week's been well." Ginny mumbled some type of agreement as a few other girls joined Megan. She beckoned them all out of the Great Hall and into a quieter alcove just outside the doors.

Ginny smiled and nodded at what she hoped were appropriate times as Megan introduced her to the other girls. Shite, but she wasn't going to be able to remember a single one of their names. She managed to tune back into Megan's speech to catch her say, "And since there are so few Hufflepuffs this year, the sixth and seventh years are sharing the seventh year dormitory, the fifth and fourth are sharing the sixth years', and so on, so we've got a couple empty rooms if you get my drift." She followed this with a wink and a nudge to one of the girl's Ginny didn't know. Fuck, but she should have gotten their names. She could recruit them for the D.A. later, maybe.

Ginny giggled with the other girls about—what was it?—oh, the first and second year dormitories being vacant, and followed Megan to the kitchens. Across from the kitchens were a stack of barrels that Ginny was beginning to realize never moved. She watched closely as Megan tapped "Helga Hufflepuff" on a specific one, glad she wasn't coming by herself because she probably would have gotten it wrong. The barrel top opened up and with a wide grin, Megan climbed inside. Although the night was early, music was already pouring out of the opening. The other girls traded grins and followed their Hufflepuff invite inside, Ginny bringing up the rear.

The Hufflepuff common room was already in full party mode. Someone had bewitched balls of flashing and colour-changing lights to drift among the curved ceiling and the skylights, casting strange shadows about the rest of the room. All of the furniture had been pushed against the walls of the round room as best it could, creating a large space in the middle of the common room. Of course everything was decorated in yellows, golds, and blacks to fit with the House colours, but Ginny was still surprised by the décor. Large potted plants hung from the ceiling under each skylight. Instead of portraits of stuffy old dead people, the room was covered with posters of the members of past and present Hufflepuff Quidditch and Gobstones teams, as well as past student's artwork. There was also what appeared to be an large empty canvas in a frame dedicated to comments and graffiti. Ginny approached the graffiti section out of curiosity. Some strange drawings and rude comments stretched edge to edge. A few phrases stood out: "FUCK THE AURORS," "Cornelius is packing Fudge," and the phrase her brothers had put above their shop, "Why are you worried about You-Know-Who? You should be worried about U-No-Poo!" Ginny smiled at the familiarity of the phrase.

"It's enchanted so that only current students can see it. Anyone else sees a painting of some old, dead wizard." Ginny turned. Megan had reappeared by her side and was holding out a goblet to Ginny. "Drink?" she asked loudly. It was hard to hear with the Weird Sisters playing at top volume.

"What's in it?" Ginny asked cautiously, but took the drink anyway.

"Just some mead. There's Butterbeer and Firewhiskey if you'd rather." Megan smiled, and in the strange lighting her teeth seemed to glow. Ginny took a large sip. She'd had mead at the Slug Club Christmas party last year and remembered liking it. Plus, maybe it would help with her awkwardness. She hadn't been to a party in so long.

"The decorations are great," she commented, hoping she sounded genuine.

"We worked all day on them. The lights didn't want to change colour for a couple hours. Oh, if you're interested, the first and second year dormitories—the vacant ones—are down those tunnels." She indicated the far side of the room. "Girls' are supposed to be on the left, if you don't want to be disturbed."

Ginny nodded, wondering how the tunnel was enchanted to keep boys out. It seemed to be sloping slightly downhill, which ruled out the possibility of it turning into a slide like the Gryffindor dormitories. "I don't think I'll—" she started.

"Oh don't be ridiculous. Everyone knows that Potter left you. No one would blame you," Megan said with a wave of her hand.

Annoyance flared up in Ginny. "Thanks, I guess," she said sarcastically. Nice to know no one expected her to stay true to Harry. She guessed no one would expect him to stay true to her, either. The thought made her stomach ache and her head whirl. She downed the rest of her mead in a single gulp.

"Shite, someone's thirsty. Drink table's over there." Megan indicated with a hike of her thumb

Ginny thanked her and made her way over to the table, leaving Megan with some of her fellow Hufflepuffs. The drink table was crowded with bottles of mead, Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, Exploding Lemonade, and a bowl of punch that Ginny didn't quite trust. She grimaced as she watched Ernie Macmillan mix pumpkin juice and Firewhiskey. Gross. He smiled at her.

"It's good," he promised. She made a disbelieving noise. "It's called a Firecracker." He grinned, and she noticed that his eyes were a pretty light blue. She thought about asking him about starting the D.A. back up, then decided it wasn't the time. She filled her goblet with more mead and turned to scan the room.

To her left a couple snogged on one of the overstuffed couches. To her right sixth and seventh years continued to pour into the room. She guessed that most of the younger students had been banished to their respective dormitories. She didn't see many people she knew. Luna and Neville probably hadn't been invited. She supposed it was probably time to make new friends or allies but with the music so loud, she didn't think she'd be able to have many meaningful conversations.

Her eyes rested on the entrance to the common room just as Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy walked in. She made a noise of disgust. "What the fuck is he doing here?" she asked rather loudly.

Ernie elbowed her. "Shush. He's the reason we can have these parties. He's the lookout. Sort of. I mean, his and his friends' invite is his bribe, so Snape or Sprout doesn't shut us down."

Ginny shook her head in disbelief and knocked back her mead. "Yeah, I'm not okay with that," she said as she refilled her goblet again.

Ernie shrugged. "It's have him cover for us or not have a party at all, really. And I'd rather deal with Malfoy and Zabini and Parkinson than the Carrow siblings."

"Well I'm not happy about it," Ginny announced. Pansy was making her way over to the drink table so Ginny turned to leave, only to find the only way to go—if she wanted to avoid the Slytherins—was into the vacant rooms Megan had pointed out earlier. Making a split decision, she turned into the tunnel. The noise of the party faded as she walked. The tunnel was longer than she originally thought, with a round doorway at the end. She pulled it open cautiously, doubting she was going to walk in on anything surprising so early in the night, especially with the door unlocked.

A group of seventh years were crowded around a small cauldron that was releasing coloured smoke in huge, billowing clouds. She watched as one of the girls captured the smoke in a Bubble-Head charm and fitted it over a boy. The other students giggled as he inhaled deeply, the smoke disappearing. Ginny stared. She vaguely recalled seeing something like this that time she had walked in on the twins crowded over their cauldrons, but they'd pushed her out of the room before she'd seen much. At first she had assumed it was an experiment; the reality had hit her a few months after the fact.

She shut the door, deciding against participating and instead knocked her mead back again. A refill would be nice. She made her way back to the common room. It was a strange feeling, walking from the dark, quiet tunnel into the loud, bright room. She squinted in the flashing lights, her headache from earlier in the day returning.

Back to the drink table. This time she poured herself a Firecracker, which—surprisingly enough—tasted alright.

"Good, isn't it?" came a voice from behind her.

"Yeah, surprisingly so," she responded, turning. Ernie was leaning against the wall, surveying the party.

"I see you found the rest of the party," he said, indicating the direction of the vacant dormitories.

Ginny laughed and looked at her feet. "Yeah, that was interesting."

"Not your thing, huh?" Ernie looked concerned, as if afraid she'd judge him.

"I've just had no exposure to it, you know?" she said. That wasn't true. Molly had been worried about Bill's habits before he'd gotten the job at Gringotts. Ginny had been young and hadn't really understood why everyone was concerned about Bill. She still was unsure whether Bill's habits had merited worry in the first place. But it was over now. She made to take another sip of her Firecracker, only to find her goblet once again empty.

She reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey only to place her hand atop someone else's. "Sorry," she stuttered, snatching her hand back.

"That's fine," a smooth voice said. She dragged her eyes upwards.

"Zabini," she deadpanned. His coffee-coloured eyes observed her passively. He was a beautiful boy, really, she couldn't help thinking. His dark skin was so smooth, his cheekbones so sharp. He really inherited the exotic beauty of his mother.

"Weasley," he acknowledged. "How was your summer?"

"You know bloody well how my summer was, you blathering blighter." She instinctively reached in her pocket for her wand, hand tightening on it and brushing something cold and smooth. Oh, right, the pain potion from Madam Pomfrey. Well, she did have a headache. Abandoning her grip on her wand, she pulled out the vial and uncorked it one-handed. Zabini raised an eyebrow at her as she poured the contents into her empty goblet.

"What," she said in a flat voice. "You're giving me the worst bloody headache I've had since the Thing With the Astronomy Tower." To prove her point, she filled the goblet the rest of the way with pumpkin juice to mask the taste of the potion—which, knowing Madam Pomfrey's potion-making skills, probably tasted like arse—and took a hearty gulp.

"Weasley, you may be beautiful, but your personality is downright grating," Zabini said in a lofty tone.

"Oi, you think I'm beautiful?" she asked with a slight giggle. What was wrong with her, really?

Zabini choked on his Firewhiskey. "Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't stick my cock in a blood-traitor like you if you were dripping wet and begging me for it."

"Well then consider yourself missing out," Ginny slurred, taking another sip of the concoction in her goblet.

This time Zabini laughed uproariously, his almond eyes sliding closed as his mouth stretched into a grin. "You stupid bint! No one wants Potter's leftovers."

Ginny flushed darkly as she watched him walk away. Shite, that was embarrassing. She fucking walked into that one. It was then she concluded that she must be drunk, or nearly so anyway. Merlin, how humiliating. She'd been back at Hogwarts just one week and already she was publicly losing her shite. She took a few steps back, thinking she would go hide in one of the vacant rooms until her buzz wore off well enough for her to make it back to Gryffindor tower without making a fool of herself.

"Watch it!" someone said right about the same time she bumped into something very hard and warm. She turned around sharply. Malfoy stood behind her, one arm clutching her shoulder to steady her and the other holding his goblet far from his body. The sleeve of his robes was damp; she must have made him spill his drink. His upper lip was curled in disgust.

"Why don't you watch it?" she retorted. As soon as it was out of her mouth she winced. How fucking lame was that? She took another large gulp of her concoction, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste the potion left in her mouth. A stray thought crossed her mind, that her headache had disappeared despite the fact that someone had turned up the music even louder and the lights were still flashing in an altogether dizzying way.

"Maybe if you weren't so small I wouldn't trip over you," Malfoy sneered.

Ginny laughed long and hard. "Oh yes!" she cried. "Insult my height, or my appearance! Or my family's money, or lack thereof! Insult me because Harry left me, and my mother had no choice but to send me to live alone and unprotected under the care of Death Eaters like you! Insult me because I've never once been crucial, or valuable, or needed! Insult me because once again, I'm left to sit around and wait for Harry to save me! Insult me for the thousands of things about myself that I cannot change!" Her laughter faded and she finished her goblet to make herself shut up. After she drained it dry, she let if fall from her hand and roll away on the carpeted floor. "Fuck everything!" she hissed, putting her head in her hands.

A strong grip encircled her wrists and dragged her into the darkness and relative quiet of the tunnel. Malfoy kept both of her wrists in one hand and used the other to push her so her back was against the wall.

"You need to pull yourself together, little girl," he hissed in her ear. He was really close to her, heat radiating off of him. With an uncontrolled giggle she let her head flop forward and onto his shoulder. Nothing seemed real anymore. She felt like she was floating, inside one of her brothers' Patented Daydream Charms.

With a start Malfoy pulled back, still keeping his grip on her to keep her pressed against the wall. His face was the perfect picture of shock and revulsion. Ginny's head flopped off of his shoulder as he moved out of her reach and she lifted it with effort. She had to try hard to make her eyes move up Malfoy's frame to meet his gaze, and after she was looking up it was difficult to keep her gaze focused.

As if from far away she heard Malfoy hiss, "Oh, fuck me" in frustration.

_Gladly_, was the thought that crossed her mind.

With a sharp crack and a starburst of pain on her right cheek, Ginny was startled into shaking her head and blinking up at Malfoy. He'd hit her? Her wrists were free now where he'd been gripping them.

"Did you indulge in the steaming charms they have in the vacant room?" he asked, stress apparent in his voice.

"No, no, I'm not stupid," she slurred back.

"Apparently you bloody are," he growled, backhanding her again. She yelped in protest. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Merlin, nothing." She tried to wrestle out of his grip, but her arms weren't responding like she thought they should. She pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge an inch. She gripped the front of his robes for stability. She was feeling pleasantly dizzy and everything seemed far away.

"Don't lie to me, Weasley. I'm Head Boy; students' safety is a priority."

"That's a fucking riot!" Ginny laughed, falling back against the wall in her mirth and hitting her head. "Ouch," she complained. "You really fucked up my head, you know? Madam Pomfrey had to give me a pain potion."

Malfoy closed his eyes, emotions rolling over his face like water. "So you're going to blame this on me, are you?" he said, opening his eyes to squint at her in the darkness.

Ginny pulled on the front of his robes where she was still holding on, making him fall against her. "Everything is your fault," she whispered, her face hardly an inch from his.

The next morning Ginny tried to tell herself that it was Malfoy who had initiated the kiss. That she was fucked up and had been taken advantage of. Not that she was drunk and possibly drugged and had thrown herself at the first wizard to come near her. Because the truth is hard, and she knew as she pressed her lips against his that she'd regret it in the morning.

Malfoy initially tried to jerk back, but Ginny had caught his bottom lip in her teeth. A low growl of pain or pleasure, she wasn't sure which, escaped him. She found herself a moment later with each of his hands pinning a shoulder into the wall behind her as he pressed his tongue into her mouth. Startled, Ginny tried to push him back, hating the feeling of being trapped, but pressing the heels of her palms into his chest only made him push her back harder. Excitement flared in her chest and her stomach twisted in knots.

One of his hands fisted her hair and pulled her head back sharply into a better angle. She gasped at the unexpected display of violence and wondered why she expected anything different. This was Draco Malfoy, after all. The wizard she'd traded hexes and punches with just the night before. She briefly wished she was sober so she'd find the strength to push him off of her, and at the same time, she was glad she wasn't. Because really, Draco Malfoy was an attractive bloke and she should enjoy snogging him while she had the chance.

She nipped at his bottom lip again, earning herself a sharp tug on her hair and a growled, "No." To emphasize his point, he bit her bottom lip. Hard. Blood exploded in her mouth. She frowned at the taste and the strange lack of pain. Oh right, the pain potion. Damn, that shite was good.

As if from far away, she felt hot blood spill out of her mouth and over her chin. Malfoy took advantage of having control of her hair to tilt her head farther so he could access her neck. Ginny noticed absently that she felt like she was floating. A pleasant tingling sensation was spreading from her fingertips up her arms. An uncontrollable giggle spilled out of her like mead out of a leaky barrel.

A voice near her ear asked her if she was ticklish. She just laughed harder. Malfoy pulled away from her, losing his grip on her hair and her shoulder. Without the support, she slumped against the wall. She felt his gaze upon her, surveying her, and she was suddenly embarrassed for her actions and appearance. She could still feel blood dripping hotly down her chin. She wondered how frightening she looked.

"In the name of all that is holy," Malfoy whispered slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

Giggles poured out of Ginny again, and it took her a few seconds to register what was happening when Malfoy scooped her up and started carrying her down the tunnel. The realization made her laugh harder at the ridiculousness of it all. There was simply no way this night was real. She was in a bad dream. A bad dream where she got to snog Malfoy.

_Got to?_ She shook her head in confusion. The git repulsed her. And he'd said that he wouldn't grace her with his dick even if she begged for it. Wait, no, that was Zabini. Apparently Malfoy had lower standards. The thought made her laughter double up. She snaked her arms around Malfoy's neck to hold herself steady, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. He smelled nice, like sandalwood.


End file.
